A Friend in Need
by Lothiriel84
Summary: What if Jane never got his memories back in 4x10 Fugue in Red?


**A Friend in Need**

"You took it. Wilcox wasn't lying. You really took it."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm late for my new life."

Three pair of eyes turned on Lisbon. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt were clearly expecting her to step in and extract the truth from Jane.

Except that she couldn't.

As likely as not he'd really committed grand theft. However, this might be his last chance to start a new life – one that didn't involve his consuming drive for revenge.

And she simply couldn't get what he'd told her at the hospital out of her mind.

_You think I can't see what's going on here? You people, you're tiptoeing – you're dancing around some forgotten tragedy. I'm happy now. Just let me be happy._

God only knew how much he deserved to be happy, after all he'd been through.

So she simply bowed her head and let him walk away arm in arm with that stupid bimbo. None of her team members dared to question her decision, even if she was perfectly aware they strongly disagreed with it.

She just hoped that Jane would be able to keep himself out of trouble without her help from now on.

xxx

Patrick Jane was having the time of his life. In the last few months he'd earned a lot of money from his psychic readings, and people were constantly requiring his services.

His popularity grew daily, as did his income. He took on to staying in the most expensive hotel suites while he travelled all over California, and it was rare for him to spend his nights alone.

It didn't take much effort on his part to lure beautiful women into his bed; most of times one of his charming smiles was more than enough.

He'd dumped his _responsible adult_ – Tamara, or whatever was her name – as soon as they'd left Sacramento. She didn't seem to mind very much though; it seemed that the diamond bracelet he'd given her was quite a satisfying consolation prize anyway.

It was after a couple of months that he noticed he'd gained a regular guest to his shows. The first time he'd seen him, the guy was in the company of one of the women he'd just slept with (though he couldn't even remember her name). He'd never seen the woman again, but he could swear that the man had shown up almost every evening ever since.

The weirdest thing was that he was nothing like his usual marks; he didn't seem the sort of guy who believed in psychics at all.

Curiosity got the better of Jane in the end, and he approached the stranger as he was sitting at the bar after his latest show.

A slow smile spread on the other's face. "Mr. Psychic. Nice to meet you."

"My name's Jane, Patrick Jane. Nice to meet you too."

"I'm Mr. Robinson. But you can call me Jack, Patrick."

They shook hands warmly. For some inexplicable reason, Jane seemed to take an instant liking for his new acquaintance. In a few minutes they were having drinks together and chatting friendly about their respective lives.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you more about my past. I don't remember it myself, you see. However, as they say – today is all that matters, and nothing else."

Mr. Robinson raised a questioning eyebrow. "How comes that you can't remember your own past?"

Jane shrugged nonchalantly. "Someone almost drowned me – or so I've been told, at the very least. A doctor said that I'm suffering from dissociative fugue, but as long as it doesn't affect my other skills I don't really care."

"Being unable to remember who you really are doesn't bother you?"

He shifted uneasily on his seat. There had been _something_ bothering him all the time, the ghost of a memory that he couldn't quite place.

Truth was, he was actually scared of what that memory might be about. Judging from the way his colleagues at the CBI had kept on tiptoeing around it, something pretty bad must have happened to him in the past. He'd thought the best thing for him was never getting to know about it, but now he wasn't so sure anymore.

"You're not a fool, Patrick. You know you'll have to face this sooner or later."

When he looked up again the stranger was gone, as if he'd vanished into thin air.

He'd left a manila envelope beside his empty glass though. Jane absent-mindedly picked it up and strolled out of the bar with a strange sense of foreboding.

xxx

Lisbon definitely wasn't one to break speed limits, except when they were chasing criminals – and yet she simply couldn't take her foot off the accelerator tonight.

She'd been woken at half past one in the morning by a phone call, and the last thing she was expecting was to hear Jane's trembling voice at the other end of the line.

He'd sounded so broken as he'd asked her to come to him in Fresno that she hadn't even questioned his motives for calling her in the middle of the night, after three months' silence.

It was half past four when she finally reached the address he'd given her. He was curled up on the steps of an abandoned building, like a wounded animal or a frightened child.

"Jane, I'm here. What happened?"

Without a word he handed her the crumpled manila envelope he'd been clutching onto up to that moment. Blood froze in her veins as she examined its contents.

There was an old picture of Jane smiling happily between his wife and child. The other pictures she'd seen plenty of times, for they belonged to one of the Red John's files – Angela and Charlotte Jane's lifeless bodies sprawled on the bed under a smiling face painted in their own blood.

"How could I forget them, Lisbon?" he asked in a small, forlorn voice. "How?"

It broke her heart to think that there hadn't been anyone at his side as he'd had to face his tragic memories all over again. She'd left him alone, and she was never going to forgive herself for that.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I'm so sorry…"

With that she sunk to her knees and hugged him tightly. Jane clung onto her like a drowning man, quietly sobbing against her shoulder.

It wasn't until a few hours later that it occurred to Lisbon who might have been to bring back those memories out of the past.

As for Jane himself, he couldn't remember a thing of what had happened ever since his accident.


End file.
